


"To the brilliant, notable, and most worthy Wolfgang"

by luckbringer



Category: In Mozart's Shadow
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Letters, Music, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckbringer/pseuds/luckbringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mozart has died, and no one is more grieved than his family. But there is one man, Captain Armand D'Ippold, who has a few things to say to the deceased genius. (One-shot. Does not require knowledge of "In Mozart's Shadow" by Carolyn Meyer to enjoy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	"To the brilliant, notable, and most worthy Wolfgang"

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler: Mozart dies, obviously. This fic can be enjoyed even if you haven't read the book, since all you really need to know is that the writer of this letter, Captain Armand D'Ippold, became Wolfgang's friend and was Nannerl's first love. (Yes, I ship them, but that isn't the point right now) This is based on the Caroline Meyer's interpretation of Mozart's history.

To the brilliant, notable, and most worthy Wolfgang,

I am most grieved to hear of your death. The world has prospered because of you, the realm of music especially, and it seems strange and most cruel for you to be taken away from it so soon. If it is God's plan that I should live beyond a genius, then I shall not question it. But it does make one wonder.

Sophie and your beloved wife, Constanze, lamented your passing, as did your dearer sister, Nannerl. I regretfully could not attend the ceremony, but I heard it was a somber affair overall. Nannerl said you were buried outside Vienna, in the cemetery of St. Marx under an unmarked grave, but I cannot believe that. To cover the body of a man such as you with nothing more than crumbling earth and a rough stone is incomprehensible.

But despite living in a period of mourning, I hear your family is faring well. Constanze is very good at managing the finances, and Karl Thomas and Franz Xavier are well looked after. They will survive this storm.

I feel most guilty over the passing of your father, Leopold. There once was a part of me, a most disgraceful and unworthy part, which bore a certain distaste for him, on account of him denying your sister and I permission to wed. He might have treated me pleasantly, but I believe I was never good enough for him. Perhaps it is good Nannerl married Johann Baptist in the end, or perhaps it is not. Your place in heaven surely sees more than I.

I confess I do not feel like I can give you an honest report on how Nannerl is faring. She wept bitterly on the day of your death, and continues to shed a tear at your memory. It is difficult to imagine a day where Nannerl does not weep for the loss of her family. I hope your spirit can provide some measure of comfort for her. It is a comfort I cannot provide, at least not beyond the boundaries of friendship.

I would be lying if I said I no longer love your sister. I would be a fool to try and deny that part of myself that looks at Nannerl's beautiful son and not wish he was mine—ours. More and more I find myself imagining what could have been, had we been allowed to wed.

Despite this, Nannerl and I continue to see each other, and talk of days long gone. In exchange for my war stories, she tells me of your family's journeys all across Europe. I cannot imagine you and your sister's childhood—your rigorous practice schedule would rival that of a soldier's training regime! All you have accomplished, and more, and at such a young age…even as I write this I have to remind myself that you are no longer living.

And as my hand stills my thoughts begin to wander. How many questions can be posed to a dead man! But I am a trained captain, and as I feel no fear of my passing, I shall not burden you with questions of 'how' or 'what'.

However, I must wonder 'why'.

It seems like a strange question to ask, but I assure you that there is nothing I desire to know more. Why, Wolfgang, did you choose this path for yourself? Surely along the long road of success and despair, another road might have opened up to you. And if it wasn't for your occasional moments of snobbishness and haughtiness, you could have taken them. Would you have become as famous? Would you have worked yourself to death no matter which path you chose?

They say you knew your death was approaching long before the black angels arrived at your bedside. Even as they sat on your shoulders, did you smile? Did you think back on your life, and pronounce yourself satisfied? Did you think of your father, your mother, your sister, your wife? Did you ask for a second chance? Who did you bless? Who did you curse?

But these questions do not matter in the end, for you, and every other dead man on this blessed earth, are hardly able to answer. In the last moments of your life, I do not doubt that many thoughts crossed your mind. Or, more likely, the last notes of your latest symphony or opera.

There is something you should know, Wolfgang, before I leave you to your sleep. Your music, the product of a brilliance to not be matched by any other so-called "prodigy", has no bounds. Its potential is limitless. As I listen I close my eyes and imagine the sound drifting across countries, and through time. I have not told anyone this notion, even your sister, but I truly believe that your music will be continued to be conducted, played, heard, seen, and enjoyed for many generations to come.

I feel a slight cough coming on. But it is nothing. I shall hand this to a good friend of mine who has business in Vienna, and he promises to set this on your grave. If those lay-about priests refuse to give you a marker that touches the sky in its grandeur, my humble letter will have to suffice. Rest in peace, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. May God bring peace to your wandering soul.

With the greatest sincerity, Captain Armand D'Ippold - 1792


End file.
